


What Should Have Been Ours

by DemonzDust



Series: What Should Have Been Ours [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 6a, Angst, Gore, M/M, Past Abuse, Soulmates, Torture, but not full soulmate au, hurt!theo, sceo - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 04:35:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9862829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonzDust/pseuds/DemonzDust
Summary: A true alpha is more powerful when they find their soul mate. The Dread Doctors found Scott’s and corrupted him so the two would never be able to recognize one another. Set directly after Heartless.





	1. Chapter One

Douglas smiles to himself when he catches the chimera’s cool soapy scent drifting across the evening air. He's not surprised that Theo’s managed to give Beacon Hills’ pack of clueless teenage werewolves the slip, but he is a little amused that the fleeing chimera somehow thinks he’s safer on his own. He’ll be made to see his error _very_ soon.

He trains his ears to the sound of Theo’s footsteps treading swiftly across the forest floor and eases into a prowl behind them, keeping his own steps silent as he slowly advances on his prey’s back.

The chimera’s senses are weaker than the lowensmench’s and he’s unaware of the beast’s presence till it’s far too late. Douglas can see his his back stiffen when he finally realizes he’s being stalked. He moves to run, but Douglas has him before he gets more than a step forward.

It’s a brief and quiet struggle. Theo’s pathetic attempt to escape the stronger creature’s grip isn’t any more successful than the chimera’s resistance to opening the line of mountain ash for him the previous evening. In a few moments, Theo’s pinned to the ground, huffing short defiant breaths as Douglas grinds his face into the dirt.

“Stop struggling.” Douglas growls, reveling in the way every syllable rolls off his tongue now that he’s cast off that ridiculous American accent. “It only makes you look more pathetic.”

“Can I _help_ you with something?” Theo growls back at him, in a thoroughly unconvincing attempt to appear unfazed by his compromising position.

Douglas can’t help but let out a short gravelly laugh.

He’d been forced to endure a decade of this insufferable little brat growing up, and from the very first time the Dread Doctors had strapped his squirming body down onto their table, Douglas had hated him. 

As a child, Theo had a grating, shrill cry that would make anyone want to claw their own ears off. Anyone but the Dread Doctors of course. They were content to let the child scream and cry himself hoarse through their experiments, never bothering to put him under or shut him up. It would have taken only a _moment_ of extra work to gag him, but of course they hadn’t troubled themselves. So Douglas would listen to the high-pitched sound for hours, fantasizing about stuffing a rag in his mouth.

The desire to gag Theo only became stronger as the sniveling child grew into the most _obnoxiously_ arrogant adolescent Douglas had ever seen. A insubordinate, conceited little shit that thought he could cheat and connive his way into becoming an alpha werewolf. He had somehow managed to convince himself that he had _chosen_ his lot with the Dread Doctors, and he had the nerve to be _smug_ about it.

The gaul of somehow believing that he’s clever, while all the while never knowing the _true_ use the Dread Doctors intended him for drove Douglas mad. Even now, he can tell Theo fancies himself as resilient. A survivor. When the only thing he’s ever truly been good for is being used.

Douglas has been waiting for a very long time to disillusion Theo, and he’s going to enjoy every moment of it before shutting his back-talking insolent mouth permanently.

“I believe that you have something that belongs to me.” He declares, letting his claws grow till they scrape against the chimera’s cheek. “And I will be having it back now.”

“Well if you want it then maybe you should try _asking_ for it.” Theo suggests, and Douglas can practically see him taking measured breaths, slowing his heart rate to appear unfazed. “I’m sure we could come to a mutually acceptable arrangement if-”

“Do not pretend you understand what I am speaking of!” Douglas barks, annoyed. “I am well aware that you have no _idea_ what I am talking about. I’m not the Dread Doctors, and I have no intention of humoring you in your childish little games.”

He flips Theo onto his back, and studies the chimera’s torso. He knows what he’s looking for is in there somewhere. He’d heard the Dread Doctors discussing its placement before Theo had been turned.

“You were so small when they hid it in you.” Douglas clarifies, dragging the tips of his claws down the chimera’s chest “You did not understand what they were doing...”

Realization seems to dawn on Theo’s face and his hand darts out to grab Douglas’s wrist.

“ _Wait_.” He breathes desperately as the color drains from his face.

“I’m afraid you aren’t in a position to be giving me orders.” Douglas gloats.

“Look,” Theo goes on, imploringly. “I’m sure there are other ways to get what you want. We don’t have to be enemies, I could _help_ you...”

“Do not insult me. I will never be in need of _your_ help.”

“You don’t know this town. You don’t know Scott’s pack. You don’t know-”

“ _Halt die Klappe!_ ” Douglas spits in Theo’s face, hand moving to his throat.

He’s not sure if Theo understands his words, but from the way he flinches and closes his mouth, it looks like he at least comprehends the meaning behind them.

“Good.” Douglas purrs, pushing Theo’s hands off of him. “If you stay still, I _might_ not have to _kill you_ when I retrieve, but it makes little difference to me. Keep wriggling, and I’ll be prying it out of your corpse.”

It's a complete and total lie. Douglas is well aware that Theo's individual parts are worth far more individually than the broken mess of creature they made up. Once he finds the item the Doctor’s have hidden in him, he'll dig right into Theo's skull and take the pineal gland.

He just wants to see if Theo will do it. If he’ll hold still and let himself be cut open for what must be the hundred thousandth time.

“Now put your hands by your sides.” He orders. “And hold still.”

Douglas watches with satisfaction as Theo lowers his arms, his entire body going limp in surrender.

“There...” He coos as he slides Theo’s shirt up with his claws. It feels good to watch the impertinent teenager submit to him. “I thought you might see reas-”

He’s cut off mid sentence as a sharp rock is plunged into his temple, and Theo is clawing at him trying to escape.

“You little _bitch_!” Douglas roars and returns the blow so viciously Theo’s head snaps to the side, his body falling limply into unconsciousness.

*     *     *

The low buzz and faint crackling of the overhead light is the first thing Theo’s aware of as his mind slowly wakes. There’s a dull but insistent throbbing in his forehead. He flinches, taking in a sharp hiss of breath as his eyes flutter open.

He knows where he is even before the dark cloudy shapes of the room around him come into focus in the dim yellow light.

The flat hard feeling on his back, the snug tightness on his wrists and ankles, the exposed yet immobile feeling. He doesn’t need to see the leather straps or the bleak metal to know he’s on an operating table. An old operating table.

“Ah, you’re awake.” a thick familiar German accent says from behind him. “Good. I was beginning to think you would sleep through most of this, and that would have been very unfortunate.”

Theo doesn’t give Douglas the satisfaction of watching him struggle to get out of his binds, and instead glares at the man as he wheels a cart full of instruments into sight.

“ _Unfortunate_ ?” Theo repeats, almost indignant. “God _what_ does everyone have against anesthetic?”

“Well the Dread Doctors were lazy I am afraid. Believe me, I did not enjoy having to listen to your squealing and shrieking any more than you did, but for me-”

“Yeah somehow I _doubt_ that.” Theo interjects, unable to keep the anger that's welling up inside him out of his voice. As if listening to him scream was _anywhere_ near as traumatic as having three strange men in masks drag you out of your bed, take you to an unfamiliar place, strap you down and cut and drill into you...

“But for _me-_ ” he repeats, as if he had the right to be annoyed with the interruption. “I am keeping you awake because that is what you _deserve_ after hitting me with that rock. Did you _really_ think that was going to work? This could have been simple, Theo. A bit of digging and then done, but, no. Like a little worm you must try to wriggle and squirm your way out of everything. Now, for _once_ , you're going to suffer the consequences of your actions.”

Theo wants to point out that he's suffered plenty. That contrary to popular belief in Beacon Hills, being in the ground wasn't a fucking picnic. But he holds his tongue.

Based on how sympathetic Douglas seemed to be of him as a helpless _child_ he doubts he’s going to be getting any sympathy.

He’s quiet as he watches Douglas select an instrument from his tray. He keeps his body still as the man approaches, leering over his exposed chest, even if his heart is pounding like it’s going to break out of his rib cage. He turns his head away when he feels the cold thin blade on his skin, screws his eyes shut and tugs involuntarily at his binds.

The small struggle draws a laugh from his captor as the sharp metal slices into him. Theo bites down on his lip, trying his hardest to swallow his screams--he doesn’t need to hear Douglas mocking him for them a second time--but he can’t stop himself from letting out a small strangled whimper.

“That’s _good_ .” Douglas purrs, and Theo can feel him cutting deeper into him. He tries to lie as still as possible, afraid that too much movement might cause the man’s hand to slip. “I always knew you could behave. You just needed the right _motivation_.”

Theo gasps as he feels a small metal rod stuck into his chest.

“The right _hand_...” Douglas punctures him in a second place and Theo’s breath hitches almost to the point of hyperventilating. “...to keep you in line.”

Theo gulps down the thick musty air around them, breaking into a cold sweat from the effort to keep himself from screaming.

“ _Fuck you_.” he growls.

At that, Douglas drops his tool and grabs Theo’s face, forcing their eyes to meet.

“Do _not_ talk back to me boy.” he breathes, furiously at him. “I will not tolerate it like the Dread Doctors did. Speak to me like that again and my knife will find one of your arteries.”

He gives Theo’s chin a quick jerk.

“ _Understand me_ ?” he barks. “Or would you like to hear again it in _German_?”

“ _Yes_.” Theo responds venomously.

“ _Good_.” Douglas retorts, and pushes Theo’s head back onto the table.

It goes on like that for some time, Douglas making cheap jabs about Theo’s upbringing as he places small rods in him to keep him open and prevent him healing as he searches for _whatever_ it is he’s looking for. Theo’s not sure which he hates more, the feeling of his flesh being peeled back layer by layer, or the sound of the ex-Nazi’s voice as he recounts an endless stream of stories about Theo's “spoiled” childhood.

Yeah he was a real _brat_ screaming for his parents while he was being tortured. A real fucking entitled primadonna when he cried for someone, _anyone_ to help him. He’d never realized how _annoying_ it must have been for _Douglas_ to have to listen to him beg them to stop or to tell him why, why, _why_ they were doing this to him.

Theo had honestly forgotten that he used to say any of those things. But now, having the details of it recounted to him, he can’t stop remembering it in crisp sickening detail. How he would wake up in his bed the next day as if nothing had happened. How he’d try to tell his parents what was going on but they’d tell him it was just nightmares. How when it continued they’d taken him to a child psychologist who told them he was _making it up_ for _attention_.

How every day he’d become more and more of a problem that they didn’t want to have to deal with. How every night it would happen again and every morning he would wake up colder, feeling like something was missing inside him. How he’d try and try and try to get that something back but never seemed able to.

He doesn’t scream as the time slowly slips by him, but his eyes start leaking eventually. Warm droplets of water trickle at first and then stream down his temples. By the time his eyes are red and chaffed he can barely tell where he is anymore. The cuts of Douglas’s knife blurring together with those of the Dread Doctors.

It isn’t till he hears Douglas practically shouting, that his mind is jolted back to the present.

“Where _is_ it?! WHERE is it??!!!”

His eyes squint open to see an absurd number of rods in his chest, and he realizes for the first time that Douglas’s knife has been digging with increasing frustration over the last hour.

He licks his chapped lips, and a smug grin spreads across his face.

“Something not going your way?” he asks in mocking concern. His eyes are still heavily lidded and voice sounds breathless, but his tone is unmistakably pleased.

“ _Keep your mouth shut!”_ Douglas shouts.

“Or you’ll what?” Theo presses. “ _Kill_ me? If you wanted me dead you would have done it already.”

“You think I can’t make this worse for you?” Douglas threatens, leaning back up from his work to look Theo in the eyes again.

“I don’t _care_ if you do.”

“Is that _so_?”

Theo doesn’t answer. He likes the repartee, it’s reeling his mind back to the present, keeping it off the very dark roads it’s been wandering down, but he doesn’t want the torture to get worse. He’s not sure how it would exactly, but he believes that it can. It _always_ can.

“I once heard you say...” Douglas muses, setting his blood drenched tools back down on the tray beside him. “That _true_ pain is _emotional_ pain...do you still believe that to be true, Theo?”

At that, Theo lets out a broken, raspy laugh.

“You think you’re going to be able to deal me some _emotional_ pain?” he asks, darkly amused at the idea.

Just what exactly did Douglas think he could possibly do to him?

“This should be real good.” he continues, still laughing sarcastically. “Go on, Doc, _lay it_ on me. Make me feel real bad about myself. I’m ready.”

“So _smug_ .” the man coos, his lips spreading into a malicious grin as he reaches his hand forward to rake through Theo’s damp hair in a toxic mockery of affection. “So _arrogant_. I think you’ll come to regret saying that...”

Theo really wishes Douglas would bring his hand a little closer to his mouth so he could bite it. Or maybe just bring his face a tiny bit closer so he could spit at him.

“Doubt it.” he snips.

“You really think there’s nothing I can say that would hurt you? Nothing that would rattle you to your very core?”

There’s something in Douglas’s voice that Theo doesn’t like, but still he sticks to his guns.

“No, I really don’t.”

“I am not surprised.” Douglas comments. “You have always been very ignorant. Never able to see how the Dread Doctors had you performing for them like a trained animal. Not once did you ever have even the slightest clue as to the true use they intended you for.”

Theo doesn’t like where this is going, but he says nothing.

“You’re not the least bit curious?” Douglas presses, the smile on his face becoming unbearable to look at. “Don’t want to know the real reason they did what they did to you? The true purpose they never had the chance to force you into fulfilling for them?”

“They were trying to create the perfect evil.” Theo states, but there’s an unsure tremor in his voice. “They...they thought they saw it in me, they thought that I could be that...”

“Oh, Theo.” Douglas says patronizingly. “You were a child. You hadn’t hurt so much as a _fly_ before the Dread Doctors found you. Do you really believe they saw that in you?”

Theo’s mouth is dry. He doesn’t want to believe that this man knows something so key to his development that he, himself is unaware of, but there’s a scary and authentic sort of glee in the spine of the man’s words that’s making Theo uncomfortable.

“They knew I was born for evil.” he insists. “They thought that would make me a good candidate for the Beast...”

“No, that’s what they _told_ you.”

“How would _you_ know?” Theo snaps. “Why would they tell _you_?”

“I had my ears turned to the Dread Doctors before you were even _born_ .” Douglas says. “I know why they chose you, and it _wasn’t_ random. You weren’t _meant_ to be a killer, despite what everyone’s told you. You weren’t born this way, you were _made_ this way. By _their_ design.”  
  
“ _No_ .” Theo says, gritting his teeth. “I was _always_ this way. They picked me because they _knew_ it. They _saw_ it. They saw my potential...”

“Lies. Lies they told you to make you feel _special_ , to make you feel like you never had a _choice_ , that all the depraved things you did for them was just you fulfilling your _destiny_...when really it was quite the opposite...”

“ _You’re_ lying!” Theo shouts, a sudden rush of adrenaline snapping his abused limbs to life to tug against their binds. What Douglas is saying can’t be true. He doesn’t _want_ it to be true. He didn’t have a choice...he _never_ had a choice.

“If you think I’m lying then why are you so upset?” Douglas antagonizes him further. “Is it because you _know_ deep down that it’s true? That you weren’t born some kind of deranged sociopathic killer, but that you were _made_ to be that way? That you _chose_ to let yourself become it?” 

“You don’t know _anything_ !” Theo spits at him. “You don’t know a _fucking thing_ about me.”

“I know _everything_ about you.” Douglas purrs.

“ _You don’t know shit_!” Theo yells. “They saw I was special! They chose me because I was-”

“Now that...” Douglas interrupts, finally leaning back from Theo’s face and picking up his tools again. “...actually _is_ true. Just not in the way that you think it is.”

Theo’s had just about enough of Douglas’s games now. His beating around the bush of something that he _obviously_ has been dying to say since he first tackled him to the ground. Or maybe earlier. Maybe he’s wanted to say it from the first time he’d heard Theo’s _annoying_ crying as a fucking scared child. Whatever crap Douglas wants to say, he wants to hear it now.

“Enough bullshit.” Theo growls. “If you’ve got something to say then _fucking say_ _it_.”

“Have you ever heard of soulmates, Theo?”

Theo’s quiet for a moment. His mouth frozen in a grimace somewhere between confusion and disgust. He stares at the sealing, doing his best not to huff and roll his eyes.

Was he for fucking real right now?

“ _What_ ?” Theo asks disbelievingly, still not entirely sure if this is some kind of Nazi joke that he isn't privy to. If Nazis _tell_ jokes that is.

“I think you heard me correctly.” Douglas says, now peering into Theo’s chest again.

“I’ve obviously _heard_ of them.” Theo snaps. “But I don’t believe in them any more than I believe that aliens built the pyramids... _less_ actually.”

“Of _course_ you think that.” Douglas says, and then goes silent, beginning his search for _whatever_ it is that he’s looking for again.

“So?” Theo snaps after a few moments of silence. “Even if I believed you--which by the way, I _don't-_ -the hell would that have to do with anything?”

“ _Everything_ .” Douglas says, casually sticking in another metal pin and Theo hisses in pain. “Soulmates, _actual_ soulmates, aren't like whatever children's stories you might have heard. Not everyone has one, in fact most people don't. When you have one, it actually _is_ something special. When a person, _especially_ a supernatural creature, connects with their soulmate, it makes them stronger, more powerful, nearly impossible to break.”

“And you think _I_ have one?”

“Not only do I _know_ that you were supposed to have one, I know _who_ it was supposed to be. And so did the Doctors. It wasn’t just anyone, you see, your soulmate was supposed to be someone strong. Someone strong enough for the Dread Doctors to be threatened by him. Someone that would stand a chance against even the Beast of Gevaudan if he had his soulmate by his side...”

“ _Was_ ? What do you mean he _was_ someone strong?” Theo attempts to ask bitchy, but his voice is starting to come out nervous in spite of himself. As much as he keeps trying to reassure himself that he doesn't believe in any of this garbage, there’s an insidious twisting in his stomach, that he can’t seem to kill. “Did they...kill him--I mean, whoever you _think_ he was supposed to be...”

“Oh no, he's very much alive.” Douglas says, looking up from his work again, his expression confronted with fake sympathy. “He's just not _yours_ anymore.”

An angry rush of color spreads to Theo's cheeks.

He can't explain _why_ that makes him so enraged, the idea of this soulmate that he doesn't want or even believe _exists_ no longer belonging to him, but it does. He can’t help but wonder if Douglas is right and the Dread Doctors _have_ trained him to feel this way. Wound him up so he’s ready to snap whenever someone even so much as _hints_ at something being taken away that was rightfully supposed to be _his_.

“How would that even work?” Theo snaps. “If what you're saying is true--which I’m sure it _isn’t_ \--but if it _was_ ...soulmates don’t seem like the kind of thing you can just _steal_...”

“I think you’re misunderstanding what I’m saying.” Douglas responds with a malicious sort of glee. “They didn’t _steal_ your soulmate. You’re correct in thinking that can’t be done--I suppose a broken clock _is_ right at least twice a day--a soulmate can’t be replaced like that. But it can be ruined. Many things can happen to prevent soulmates from meeting or from recognizing one another...”

“Recognizing?”

“Yes, _recognizing_ . Being able to acknowledge the draw between them, to consummate it--oh get your head out of the gutter...” Douglas stops at Theo’s half raised eyebrow. “Consummate it _emotionally_.”

“Yeah?” Theo asks, defiant once again. “ _How_?”

“By twisting one of the partners. By taking him when he’s small and impressionable and abusing him, isolating him, torturing him till he breaks. Warping and mutating his malleable little mind until he’s entirely unrecognizable from anything his soulmate would have been able to love...”

Theo falls silent.

“Are you starting to understand now?” Douglas asks, maliciously. “Starting to see the full picture here?”

Theo is, and he doesn’t like it.

“They _used_ you, Theo.” Douglas goes on. “They knew your soulmate would be a threat to them and that he would be nearly _impossible_ to put down if he had you at his side. So they broke you and bent you for their purposes. I have to say...they did an excellent job of it too. I think you must be the most unlikable, insufferably egotistical little psychotic brat I have ever had the misfortune to lay eyes on...”

“Everyone’s a critic, I guess.” Theo attempts to say nonchalantly, but his voice is breaking. He doesn’t want to believe Douglas. He doesn’t _want_ it to be true, but he can’t stop the sickness taking over his stomach, spreading through his system like a toxin, invading every inch of his being, making it harder and harder to deny that is _feels_ true.

“You find out your entire existence has been a lie, and _that’s_ the best you can come up with?” Douglas taunts, looking up from his work again for a moment. “How very disappointing, Theo...”

Theo wants to tell him to get fucked, but his mind is reeling, wrestling with itself as he struggles to disbelieve everything that he’s heard.

What if it _is_ true?

Was there ever a chance that he could have been different? Was he, at one time, innocent like Douglas is implying? Was he capable of loving someone back then?

His memories before the Dread Doctors always feel cold and distant. Like he witnessed them all second hand, instead of feeling them happen to him personally. He can remember little league games, the names of his childhood friends, his first skateboard, but he can’t remember things like how he felt when his father had once told him he was proud of him after his championship game, or the touch of his mother’s hand.

Does he just not let himself remember? Or was that something that the Dread Doctors took from him as well?

 _Did_ he love his family at one time?

He’s always told himself that love is a social construct, a lie that people force themselves to believe so they can give meaning to their ultimately pointless and unremarkable existence, but if that’s true, then why does he feel a pain in his chest that has nothing to do with the cold metal tools digging into him?

Why does he feel like he can’t breathe?

Douglas remains quiet and focused on his work, digging deeper into him, moving things around as if he’s finally found some type of clue to what he’s searching for and is close to finding it, and Theo’s mind continues to spiral down onto the dark path of questions that he’s terrified to find the answers to.

Had the Dread Doctors really been able to carve all of the good out of him? Had he truly _let_ them do it?

And for what? All to keep him from loving someone?

Who was this person even supposed to be? Had he ever crossed paths with them? Would he have felt a connection with him even if the possibility of them being together was lost?

And then it hits him.

Someone good. Someone strong. Someone that would be a threat to the Dread Doctors. Someone that he would have felt a connection with upon a first meeting. Someone he’d known when he was small, that he had inexplicably thought about and remembered long after he’d left Beacon Hills. Someone that recognized him instantly when he’d returned. Someone that had _always_ looked at him so deeply and tender, right up until the day he betrayed him. Someone that trusted him and probably would have taken a bullet for him if he’d been who he was pretending to be.  Someone the Dread Doctors had told him he needed to take out of the picture.

“It’s...it’s Scott isn’t it?” he asks eyes blurring as for reasons he can’t even begin to understand he feels a well of hot wet tears gush uncontrollably down the sides of his face.

“Finally!” Douglas shouts, wrenching something out of Theo’s ribcage, so close to his heart his entire body jolts in pain. But he doesn’t even care any more. It’s nothing compared to the massive hole he feels growing deep inside him.

It’s Scott. He knows it.

He can remember the exact moment he met Scott. He’d been playing soccer in the park with a group of other kids, some he knew, others he didn’t. He remembers kicking the ball towards a teammate that had called “open!” to him and watching the ball roll across the wet grass till it came to a stop at the other boy’s worn-looking sneaker then looking up to find a pair of warm excited brown eyes. Scott had later explained that he had asthma, and that his best friend (who had been sick with the flu that day) was usually the only person that would pass to him.

He can remember how he’d felt like he’d been waiting for that moment for _so long_. How he’d been so lonely before that moment. He had friends but no one he was close with, his parents were barely around, his sister wanted nothing to do with him. When he met Scott he’d known instantly that they were going to be friends.

For some reason, even years later when all of his other memories felt cold and empty, he could always remember that. Always _feel_ it like he had actually experienced it first hand.

It never made any sense to him.

Until now.

Above him Douglas is inspecting the item he’d wrenched out of him, it looks like a blood soaked bone, or perhaps a tooth or claw.

“Yes it’s _clearly_ Beacon Hill’s true alpha.” Douglas says, not looking at him, picking up a cloth to clean his find. “I thought that would have been pretty obvious considering how you used to scream his name when you were experimented on....or do you not remember that?”

Theo swallows. He _had_ forgotten about that. How that first time the Dread Doctores strapped him, screaming and squirming down onto their table that after he’d cried for his parents, his teachers, his sister...that he cried out for Scott. That he thought Scott would help him somehow.

“Oh, chimera, are you _crying_?” Douglas says, finally looking at him.

“ _Fuck you_.” Theo whispers, voiced choked as he closes his eyes.

He wishes he’d never asked. He wishes he’d never had to know the truth. To know that Scott could have been his, _should_ have been his.

He tries to hate Scott for it, for the fact that all those times he’d been tortured, it was all because he was supposed to be _Scott’s_ , but he can’t. All he can hate in this moment is himself.

For not knowing, for being broken. For becoming someone that Scott would barely be able to look at much less love.

“Don’t worry.” Douglas says. “Now that I have what I want you won’t have to go on being so sad for very much longer.”

Theo opens his eyes, to meet Douglas’s horrible glowing green ones.

“But...” Theo says. “You got what you wanted...can’t you just let me go now?”

“I _could_.” Douglas agrees. “But I won’t. Not when I could take what the Dread Doctors brought you up for...”

“What?” Theo asks dumbly for what must be the hundredth time in an hour.

“Come on, Theo.” Douglas says, leaning his head back and holding up the fang he’d retrieved to the dim yellow light above them. “Think just a _little_ bit here. If all the Dread Doctor’s needed was to keep you from your soulmate they could have just killed you. But they kept your annoying whiny ass around for a decade. _Obviously_ they planned to be able to use you somehow.”

Before continuing his thought, Douglas reaches into his mouth and with a short growl rips out one of his own teeth. Theo watches in confusion as he jams the new fang into the newly-made bloody gap in the lowensmench’s gum and the flesh heals around it, knitting it in.

He shakes his head, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Now, where was I?” he asks, turning back to Theo. “Yes, I believe you were crying and I was about to rip out the gland that houses your soul...”

Theo freezes.

“They...they were going to feed it to The Beast?” he realizes. “It would have made him even stronger against Scott....wouldn’t it?”

“And now it will make _me_ even stronger against him.” Douglas confirms. “So you’ll be able to fulfill what the Dread Doctor’s had in mind in a way. Your existence wasn’t entirely worthless...”

Theo roars with what little strength he has left. His chest still open, every aching nerve-ending in his body abused and spent, he’s only barely on the edge of consciousness, but  he still tugs at the binds holding him.

“ _Let me go_ !” he demands, even though he knows it’s futile. “Just _let me go_...”

“Why, so you can go crying to the true alpha over what was done to you?” Douglas asks, letting his claws grow out as he reaches behind Theo’s head. “I’m afraid it’s _far_ too late for that. You gave _that_ up the day you let your sister drown in that river.”

“He’d still help me.” Theo says stubbornly.

“But he’d _never_ love you. Now stay still and this will be over faster than you deserve...”

Theo gasps as he feels the the sharp claws enter the back of his skull.


	2. Chapter Two

Lydia wakes, thrashing and screaming in a heap on her bedroom floor. It takes her a moment to realize where she is. Her blanket is twisted around her and she’s blinking through the sheets of messy hair in her face, staring into the darkened room.

She must have fallen from her bed because of that dream---no it wasn’t a dream. She closes her eyes. She can still hear Theo’s screams, his desperate cries for help--Scott’s help--as he’s being ripped into. She can tell, her heart slamming in her chest, that it hasn’t happened yet. That there may still be time.

Her phone is in her hands, Scott’s number dialed before she can even think about if they should try to save Theo.

“Lydia?” Scott’s sleepy but concerned voice sounds from it as she’s turning her lamp on and searching for her shoes. It’s not the first time she’s called him like this, and by now he knows what it means.

“Scott!” she cries urgently into the phone, slipping into her shoes and pulling on a jacket. She knows she doesn’t have enough time to get fully dressed. “Scott, something is going to happen. To Theo. You have to save him.”

“Okay.” Scott’s voice comes through immediately and unquestioning. “Where is he?”

“It’ll be faster if I drive. Get here as fast as you can.”

By the time she’s getting her car started, Scott is already stepping into the passenger’s seat. Honestly she’s not sure how he does it. He’s even fully-clothed, unlike her, who's going to be driving around the Beacon Hills Reserve in her nightie.

Scott’s quiet as Lydia speeds off in the direction her senses are telling her to go. He stays silent for most of the very short drive, letting her focus on the task.

“He’s close.” she says, turning down a short stretch of a trail that her car can barely fit through. “He’s very close...”

“Lydia?” Scott asks, just as they’re reaching a point where they’ll have to continue on foot. “I’m obviously going to do my best to save him...and I would even if you hadn’t told me too...but...”

She knows what he’s about to ask.

“Why are you so rattled by this? It’s not like he’s our friend...or even an innocent person...”

“Scott please.” Lydia says, finally turning her car off. “You’re just going to have to trust me on this.”

“You know I do.” He says, as they both step out into the cool night air.

She's relieved because she doesn't want to tell him. Not just because there's no time to explain, but because of how awful it would be if they don't make it. What if they walk in just in time to see Theo get his skull torn apart? It's a possibility that's becoming more and more likely as the minutes pass. She can feel Theo's death circling the forest like a bird of prey, waiting to swoop down and snatch his life away. It could happen any second now.

She can't do that to Scott. She can't tell him Theo is supposed to be important to him, that he should have been important all along only to let the the alpha wolf witness him getting brutally murdered. If they can't save Theo then it's better that Scott never have to know what could have been.

“He's that way. Douglas is with him...” she says, pointing ahead. “In some kind of structure...I-I think you're going to have to run.”

Scott nods and takes off into the woods at a pace she would never be able to match.

***

Scott has gotten used to Lydia’s sudden and urgent directions, he trusts her as deeply as he would trust Stiles or his mother, but something in her voice this time was bothering him.

He can feel that there's something she isn't telling him. Something she's purposefully holding back and it's scaring him. What could possibly be so terrible that she couldn't tell him?

He tears through the dark trees and cold night air like all the specters and demons of the world are at his heels, clawing at his feet. When he finally reaches a small clearing with a heavy rusted iron gate covering an entrance to a below ground chamber he tears it off with enough force to collapse a small building.

The air in the tunnel is dry and stale, if it weren't for a shallow yellow light down the other end of it he might have trouble seeing where he was going. As he approaches the light he can hear voices-one high and malicious, the other angry, broken and desperate-echoing down the concrete walls.

The sound of the desperate voice makes him feel like there's a piece of glass in his chest...even though it shouldn't.

***

“Now hold still and this will be over faster than you deserve...”

Theo flinches, squeezes his eyes shut trying not to scream but fails miserably as his scalp is pierced by Douglas’s claws.

This is it. He can feel it. No more lies or games. No deals or trades will to get him out of this. He's trapped, helpless, completely and totally alone, and all he can think is how he wishes that the Doctors had just killed him the first time they’d taken him. That they had just pinned him down and ended him right there, when he was uncontaminated and innocent. If they had killed him then, people might have actually missed him. He'd never had hurt his sister, his parents wouldn't have had to die.

His family, his friends, Scott, they could all have missed him as a guiltless child, the way he was supposed to be. He wouldn't have had to live through all those horrifying experiments. He wouldn't have had to go to school the next day shell shocked and traumatized.

He would never have had to know that his parents wouldn't believe him when he tried to tell them what was happening to him. Wouldn't have had to talk to the worthless child psychologist that thought he was making it up for attention. Wouldn't have felt himself growing colder and colder each day more disconnected from the world around him. Isolated and alone, with no one to turn to but the Dread Doctors and their lies.

Why couldn't they just have drilled a hole in his eight year old skull and been done with it? Why did they have to corrupt and twist him first? Why did he have to let them? If he had been just a little bit stronger would he have been able to resist them?

His vision is now completely clogged over with tears, he has no more words to spit at the person about to end his life. He’s not ready to die, even though he wishes it had happened a long time ago.

He braces himself as the claws dig deeper, ready for the darkness that’s hung about him his entire life to consume him, when he feels the claws suddenly recede as a loud roar rips through the small chamber.

He recognizes that roar.

His eyes dart open, his vision still blurred with pain, but he can make out the outline of true alpha’s back, standing between himself and Douglas who's recovering from a blow.

“Come for something of yours?” Douglas taunts, eyes glowing green.

“He’s _not_ mine.” Scott growls, and Theo feels his heart twist. “But I protect everything in this town. Even him. Now _get out_ or you’re going to live to regret it.”

“I would,” Douglas almost purrs, taking a step closer to Scott. “But I’m not finished with him just yet.”

“Trust me. You’re more than finished.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Theo stays still, hardly daring to believe that he might live through this, as the small room is filled with the clamor of guttural growls and claws swiping through flesh. Metal fixtures topple and tools clatter to the floor as Theo struggles to stay conscious.

He feels himself slipping, the edges of his vision darkening, when a sharp cry from Douglas reels him awake. He forces his eyes to focus on the two, each a torn up bloody mess standing opposite one another, trying to stare the other down.

“Fine.” Douglas growls after a long moment. “Have your precious little _psycho_.”

“Thanks, I _will._ ” Scott quips back.

“I’m sure he’ll murder you in your sleep.”

“All the easier for you then, wouldn’t it be?” Scott replies with spite. He doesn’t relax his protective stance in front of Theo for a moment.

The lowensmench growls once more, but turns on his heels and leaves. He’d gotten mostly what he wanted anyway.

***

Scott watches Douglas’s back as he retreats down the long dark hall, he waits till he hears the man climbing out through the gate, a safe distance away before turning back to face Theo. He keeps his expression hard and unwavering as he silently approaches the chimera and roughly unbuckles the leather straps holding him down.

He feels a swooping rush of pity move through him as reaches for the binds and sees the red chafed eyes still leaking tears and he has to remind himself that he can’t feel that way about Theo. Any pity, any compassion that he shows, any at all, Theo will try to exploit. He’ll use it against him and his pack. Use it to hurt him and the people he cares about most.

He _can’t_ feel bad for Theo. No matter how pathetic and broken and hurt he looks, Scott knows he can’t give into the urge to pull Theo close to him, to whisper in his ear that everything will be alright, that he won’t let anyone hurt him.

Restraining himself becomes even harder as Scott’s eyes travel downwards, to the mess of incisions in the other teen’s chest and the small metal rods holding the wounds open. What had Douglas been doing to him?

He glances back up at Theo’s face, but the wounded coyote actively avoids his eyes. Scott’s not sure why because he’s always known Theo to be absolutely shameless. Maybe this had been different. Maybe this time he is humiliated over what happened to him.

Scott reminds himself again that he doesn’t care.

He slowly reaches for the small metal spikes, and carefully draws them out one by one, dropping them onto the dirty concrete floor. Theo gasps and hisses occasionally, but doesn’t say anything.

“How did you even get out of the house?” Scott asks after a while, forcing himself to sound exasperated and annoyed. He tries to remember the look in Theo’s eyes when he cut his throat. Tries to remember him forcing him to drop Lydia down that chasm. “Weren’t you chained up?”

Theo doesn’t answer. He keeps his eyes screwed tightly shut and turns his head to the side as Scott pulls out the last rod.

Scott doesn’t press the issue; it doesn’t really matter. He drops the final cruelly-shaped piece blood-soaked metal to the floor with the rest.

He can hear Lydia starting to make her way down into the tunnel now, and he’s glad she got to miss at least some of the scene he walked in on. Theo’s wounds, at least the ones made by a knife and not the alpha’s claws, are slowly starting to stitch back together. In a few days Theo will look like nothing even happened at all.

He swallows another rush of sympathy as he wonders how many times something like this must have happened to Theo before now. With him so quiet and subdued it’s hard not to see him as the Theo from seventh-grade, the one that had just discovered skate punk and was starting to realize that he didn’t like little league. The one Stiles had accidentally hit in the face with a wiffleball bat on the playground with an over-enthusiastic reenactment of something he’d seen on TV. The Theo he’d once thought about trying to tackle when a girl in their class had suggested they play kiss tag.

The one he’d thought about doing a lot more than kissing with when he’d come back to Beacon Hills claiming to be looking for a pack. He wants to kick himself every time he thinks about how he’d fallen for that sweet vulnerable act. How he’d really felt like everything was about to slide right into place. Like it was all about to be the way it should be.

“Come on...” he says, a little bit more gently than he probably should as he reaches one hand under Theo’s back, the other behind his neck to help him sit up. “Let’s try to get you out of here...”

It’s then that Theo meets his eyes for the first time, and Scott’s will is thrown into another trial as what he sees reflected in Theo’s hopeless glassy irises threatens to make his chest cave in. There’s a deep searching pain in them; a desperate, heartbroken quality like he wants to say something, wants to say something so badly, but can’t speak. His chemosignals are a mess, radiating off his slowly-healing body in such thick waves Scott feels like he might choke on them. He can feel that Theo wants to pull him closer but won’t let himself and it takes every ounce of the true alpha’s considerable self-control not to wrap his enemy in his arms and give him the comfort and safety he knows he needs.

 _Don’t believe him._ Scott tells himself. _Any vulnerability he shows you, he shows for a reason. He doesn’t want you; he doesn’t care about you; he doesn’t want to be with you. He’s never wanted to be with you. He’ll never be yours. Not your friend, or anything else. You’ve only ever been a means to an end for him. An end that doesn’t include you. Any second now he’ll open his mouth and say something to try to get you to forget all the things he’s done to you._

He doesn’t though. Instead, he stays quiet and holds the gaze for a long minute, tears brimming on the edge of his lashes, eyes begging Scott for something. What that something is, Scott has no idea, and even if he did he wouldn’t give it to him.

Hardening himself with a stamina that could only come from the desire to protect his friends, Scott stuffs down the feelings welling inside of him and pulls Theo up into a sitting position. Theo quickly turns his head away, and Scott tries not to notice how he tries to blink away the gathering tears in shame.

Scott can see him struggling to stay vertical, so he stays still, providing Theo’s body a frame to hold onto till he has balance. When he thinks Theo’s stable, he pulls off his jacket and helps pull his arms through the sleeves. Some of the wounds don’t look like they’re in a hurry to close and he doesn’t want them to get infected brushing against whatever dust will brush them in the tunnel ahead.

He pulls the zipper up, doing his best not to be affected by the sight of Theo wearing his cloths, but he’d be lying if he said there wasn’t a part deep inside of him that’s extremely satisfied with it. Once he gets to the collar he lets his hand move to Theo’s neck, finding a small patch of untarnished skin to lay his palm across to take at least some of the chimera’s pain away so they can get out of here.

Theo’s reaction surprises him.

“ _No_.” he says, his body stiffening as if Scott is trying to poison him. “ _Don’t_.”

“What?” Scott asks, confused. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t want you to.” Theo replies bitterly, every syllable wracked with a pain that Scott can’t understand the source of.

“Theo, I’m not going to hurt you...”

“I said _don’t._ ”

Scott sighs. He’s not going to force it if Theo doesn’t want it, which is obviously the case. Instead, he helps the other teen onto his feet, pulling Theo’s arm around his neck and hugging his waist to his hip for support. It’s only to save Theo some pride; he can feel practically all of the chimera’s weight pressing into him as he pulls them both towards the tunnel. He might as well just be carrying him.

Theo doesn’t look at him again as they make their way down the tunnel. He keeps his eyes trained on the floor, and honestly Scott finds it a relief. He doesn't think he could stand to have Theo look at him like that again.

***  
A short-lasting relief floods Lydia’s veins when she sees the pair hobbling down the corridor toward her. Theo's alive. Scott got there in time. She's barely released the tense breath she was holding when she feels her stomach twist in nervous knots once again.

What did Scott know now? Had Theo told him? Had Douglas told him? What would he do if he found out?

Once they're close enough for her to make out their faces, she can tell by the downcast and avoidant expression in Theo's features that he's kept his mouth shut about it.

She moves to Theo's other side as if to take some of the weight but Scott doesn't let her.

“I've got him.” He says firmly, and she falls quietly in step beside him.

As they make their way out of the rusted gate and over the first floor Lydia starts to wonder if it's worse for Scott to find out the awful truth or to go on not knowing what should have been his. The guilt that would come from the realization, the fact that Theo had been targeted because he was meant to be Scott's would be crushing. But more than that Lydia is worried about how Theo might try to exploit that guilt.

She can't tell him.

She makes up her mind as Scott’s stuffing Theo into the backseat and buckling him in like a misbehaved child. She can't risk Scott making another mistake with Theo. Letting him get hurt another time.

Besides, it isn't her secret to tell.

Theo knows, and if he wanted to tell Scott he could.

“I didn't have time to grab the handcuffs.” Scott says once he has Theo buckled. “But I swear if you try to pull any kind of crap while we're driving...”

“I won't.” Theo says flatly, still refusing to look at either of them.

As Lydia climbs behind the wheel, Scott settling into the seat beside her, she begins the treacherous task of backing her car up the narrow path.

The car is silent as she expertly navigates her vehicle in reverse along the poor excuse of a road, save for the occasional wince and hiss of pain from Theo as they go over the rougher bumps. She swears she can see the corner of Scott's mouth twitch into a small grimace slightly every time he hears it, but he keeps his eyes trained on the windshield.

When they're back on the main roads Lydia glances into her rear view mirror to see Theo, head leaning against the window, peering dejectedly at Scott's profile. He keeps his eyes on him for several moments before tucking his face into the neckline of the jacket wrapped around him--Scotts jacket she notices for the first time--and breathing in deeply.

He closes his eyes, she watches two silent silvery tears slip down his cheeks.

She questions for a moment, her decision to keep the secret to herself, but quickly reminds herself that it’s not her place to tell.

Maybe there's hope for them still. The fact that Theo didn’t immediately try to use the discovery to his advantage, that he’s actively trying to hide how much it’s affected him, those are good signs.

It may be far too late for Theo to change, but maybe there’s a small chance that he could. If they were _truly_ meant for one another, then maybe they'll find a way back to it.

Only time can tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the encouragement on the last chapter guys! I have a few ideas for a sequel, if there's a strong desire for more (or even if I just feel really inspired on my own) I'll probably write it. I have much love for this ship and plan on writing more for Scott/Theo soon either way. Any feedback or constructive criticism is more than welcome, please feel free to let me know what you think. :-)
> 
> I will add a chapter here with a link to the sequel once I publish it, so you may want to bookmark.
> 
> **More Scott x Theo fics by me:**  
> [The Road After Trilogy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14330802/chapters/33070752)  
> [The Call](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11857773/chapters/26771910)  
> [Adoption](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7802056%0A%20rel=)
> 
> ...and more on my [works](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonzDust/works) page.


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